


Good Guy

by lonelydaisies



Category: Midsommar (2019)
Genre: F/M, Unhealthy Relationships, some sad depressing sex babey!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-08 03:08:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19862512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonelydaisies/pseuds/lonelydaisies
Summary: Pelle uses you to get closer to Dani, you fall in love despite it all.





	Good Guy

**Author's Note:**

> _Tell me I’m the love of your life_  
>  Just for a night  
> Even if you don’t feel it
> 
> _I don’t care if you lie_  
>  Come on, breathe in, breathe out  
> You’re still a good guy

He’s not coming back-

He’s not coming back, and the bile creeps up past your throat, poisons your tongue before you can choke it back. The look on his face makes it so much worse; that look of faux concern, as if he truly cares about your feelings and how he effects them - how he’s effected your life and everything in it. 

Pelle reaches for you, and that soft comforting touch atop of your hand practically makes your skin crawl. His skin is softer now than it was when you first met, and you remember the first time he touched you- those sparks that shot up your spine; but now you wish you never would have spared him the time of day. Sometimes the bad outweighs the good, the pain of losing someone you’ve fallen so helplessly in love with too much to bare.

“We’ve talked about this,” his tone is calm but there’s something buried deep, deep down that you’ve heard from him before, in those moments of stupid fights born of stress and jealousy, the attempt to reconcile with you; that look in his eye that makes you think maybe, just maybe, he’d rather be anywhere else than with you right now.

Pelle never left, though. You wish you knew how it made you feel.

“We didn’t talk about _shit_ , you offhandedly telling me that you’re visiting Sweden for the Summer with friends is not the same as you going and never fucking coming back.”

The anger swirls in the pit of your stomach, rising to your chest and nesting there, twisting and tightening; but the steadiness in your voice stuns you, though you know it won’t last if this escalates.

Pelle is speaking again, probably some bullshit excuse as to why he didn’t outright tell you; about how he wanted to end his last week with you on a high with you rather than fighting for the next seventy-two hours.

And the thoughts of her invade your head again, the way his eyes would linger on her when she wasn’t looking, those conversations about astrology and his culture that he so excitedly shared with her, but when you ask, he would never seem to give you the time of day.

Your face scrunches in distaste,

“Why are you taking her?”

Pelle stops mid-sentence, almost taken aback by your question, and your eyes roll back when he asks you what you mean.

A pained laugh ends the conversation, running a hand through your hair as you sigh.

You swallow hard, throat tight and jaw aching- 

“Hey-” Pelle moves closer to you on the couch, grabbing your face with both hands before you could hide your hurt from him, “I’m sorry, I didn’t- I didn’t mean to upset you.”

You laugh again, your bottom lip quivers and you feel like a child. Pelle kisses your forehead before resting his own against it, and the sound of his steady breathing calms you, soothes you, makes it seem like everything’s okay for a moment.

There’s something on the tip of your tongue, you don’t want to say it, don’t want to feel more vulnerable than you already are, but you do anyway,

“I’ll miss you.”

Pelle opens his eyes, that hypnotizing blue having the same effect on you as when you first met, and he smiles subtly, sadly,

“I’ll miss you too.”

A thumb moves to swipe away a tear threatens to fall, he tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, moves closer, breathes in, pulls you closer, and then he’s kissing you.

You melt into him, Pelle’s touch had always been so warm and inviting, kisses sweet like honey on a spring day, he drinks up your sadness like it’s all he’s got, kisses you like there’s no tomorrow.

The kiss barely ends before it starts again, deeper, so passionate your head is spinning, and you can’t stop yourself from kissing him now, nearly devouring him as your fingers weave themselves through the loose curls of his hair.

When Pelle tugs you closer, you end up on his lap, thighs on either side of his own, that never ending kiss leaving you faint and shaky. His shirt finds it’s place on the floor, and you shiver when his hands leave your face to snake up your sides, soft hands feel like fire in their wake.

It’s just minutes later before he’s on top of you, naked and chest rising with each heavy breath. You’re almost ashamed of how wet you are for him, slick and soaking through the lace fabric of your underwear — he hums, pressing the pad of his finger to your middle, the muscles in your thighs tensing and your breath catching in your throat; he smiles at your reaction, dipping down to kiss at your neck, his tongue an absolute dream.

Pelle goes to work you open with his fingers, but you stop him, a not so gentle grip on his wrist; you don’t have to say anything, he understands, kisses you quick before he enters you, that sweet feeling of him stretching you, filling you, that beautiful exhale of breath that sneaks past parted lips, 

He always preferred to start off slow, kiss down your body, get lost between your thighs; it was in those moments you thought he loved you.

You hoped he did.

Wrapping your legs around him, he goes deeper, and your heart skips a beat when he nips at your jaw, fingers ghosting over your breast.

He senses your quickened breathing, the moans that get stuck in your throat, so he picks up his pace.

Your eyes squeeze shut, your mind starts to run-

_I love him, I love him, I love him,_

You won’t say it - you can’t. Not now not ever, it’s over, those nine months of muddled feelings, those up and downs that Mark would claim deemed you a married couple, it’s fading into the past, cementing its place as the relationship that you had begged the universe to become so much more but never would,

You dig your nails into his back, clench your jaw and hold your breath until you’re light headed - you can’t let it slip.

It’s over-

Pelle kisses up your jaw again, kisses your cheek and then your lips and you melt, exhaling heavily through your nose, moaning into his mouth but it’s not as sweet as it once was, your heart twists in your chest at the thought. His hand trails from your hip, up your torso to your breast and you arch into him,

Pelle bites your lip and you moan again, his hips stutter for a moment and you know he’s close,

_Does he wish he was fucking her?_

You swallow hard, an attempt to kill the sob that threatens to spill; and you pull him closer, his forehead against yours, and his hand travels lower, between your two bodies to touch where you need him most.

Pelle moves just how you need him to, not too fast but not too languid. Your legs tighten around him, forcing him in deeper,

“Look at me,”

It’s not a demand, no- Pelle isn’t the type to be forceful in bed; it’s a desperate plea, he can feel you pulling back, giving up on him, on this, he knows how he’s made you feel these past few months and if anything it’s him begging you for one last moment of intimacy before it’s gone.

You listen, eyes peaking open to see that sweet cherub face, cheeks pink, those soft lips beautiful and bruised; and when your eyes meet, you tense, that sob once again threatening to makes it's way up past your lips- but the force of your orgasm hits you ten times harder than you expected, that pitiful sob flowering into a moan that wracks your entire body.

He talks you through it, tells you how beautiful you are, how good you feel, _he’s close, so close-_

Pelle shudders, lets out the most delicious moan you’ve ever heard, and cums in you for the first time, for the last time.

He kisses you again, once more, still breathing heavily through his nose, and you hope he didn’t notice the tear that slipped past your lashes.

It hurts, the thought of never feeling his body next to yours again, the fact that you’ve spent so much time wondering if he used you just to get closer to Dani - it hurts to believe it. You hold your breath, stop the tears. Pelle’s body goes limp, nearly collapsing on top of you, and you wrap your arms around his neck,

Regretfully, you love him.


End file.
